We nothing have again to talk about,
'Cause everything was said that greater evening;
You said: "You will forget me, no doubt...",
But uptil now do I have the clear feeling...
And I do want to see your catty eyes,
And touch your hands, that made of Alpine snow;
And I do want to say THE VERY words...
But I can not... That's not, at least, MY show.
And life is going on - from North to South,
And I'll forget you, maybe, very soon...
We nothing have again to talk about,
But that's OK, my dear cold Moon.
M. Z. We nothing have again to talk about
© Copyright: Покойникъ, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103031901258
Свидетельство о публикации №103031901258
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